Christmas Eve Bruises
by irishgirl9
Summary: When Dean arrives back at the motel bruised and bloodied, Sam's not too happy. hurt!Dean, angry!Sam.


**A/N: ** This was written for the Secret Sam-ta gift exchange over at Supernatural. tv.

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize belongs to the wonderful Eric Kripke. The rest are figments of my imagination.

* * *

Sam was pacing back and forth across the small motel room. Dean should have been back hours ago, he thought as he glanced at the clock for about the hundredth time in the five minutes.

"Never should have left him," mumbled Sam as he continued his path across the room.

Earlier that evening after finishing a a successful hunt of a ghost haunting a library, the brothers had stopped off for a celebratory drink at tavern not too far the from the motel they were staying at. After while, the aches and pains of his sore body, a result of having a set of encyclopedia books thrown at him, became to strong for Sam to ignore and he headed back to the motel room. Dean, having spotted an easy mark, decided to stay behind and hustle a few games of pool. Sam had felt a little uneasy about leaving Dean behind, but his brother's argument that they needed money and that Sam needed rest won out. Hunting sure was a thankless job.

Since Sam had taken a cab back to the motel, he was now without a vehicle and it was about a four mile walk to the bar. Was Dean even still there? Maybe he hooked up with that cute brunette waitress he has been flirting with when Sam left the bar. But if he had done that, he would have at least taken a moment to call Sam and let he know he wasn't coming back to the motel.

The sound a key in the door pulled Sam from his musings. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped when his brother walked into the room, bloodied and bruised.

"Dean!" Sam rushed to his brother's side.

"Hey, Sammy," said Dean as he tried to walk over to his bed without stumbling.

"Dean, what the hell happened to you?" Sam gently grasped his brother's arm, preventing him from falling over, and led him to the bed.

"This?" Dean motioned to his face. "This is just a scratch."

"Not funny," replied Sam. "Dean, I thought you said that guy was an easy mark."

"He was. I won six hundred dollars off of that dude."

"Let me guess, he wasn't too happy about that and decided to take it out on your face."

"No, it was the next guy." A small yawn escaped Dean. "Listen, Sammy, I just want to take a good dose of painkillers and go to sleep. Can we talk about this later?"

"How about I help clean up and bandage your face, while you tell me what happened, and then you can go sleep." While I hunt down the bastard that did this to you, Sam added silently.

Dean gave a sigh. Sometimes his brother could be like a dog with a bone. Sam wasn't going to let him sleep until he talked and right now all Dean wanted to do was sleep. "Alright."

After retrieving the first aid kit from the the trunk of the car, Sam grabbed a washcloth from the shelf in the bathroom and wet it thoroughly. Kneeling in front of his brother, he began to gently wipe the blood off of Dean face. It looked like several layers of skin were scraped off of his right cheek. "Jesus, Dean, it looks like someone took a Brillo pad to your face."

"Yeah, that's from the brick wall."

"Brick wall?" Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, what the heck happened after I left the bar?"

"I won six hundred dollars off of this sap. You should have seen him Sam. He was terrible. It was all I could do to let him win the first two games."

Grabbing a packet of antiseptic wipes, Sam opened it and began gently wiping Dean's face. "Sorry, Dean, I know it must sting."

"Ya think," replied Dean with a wince.

"So why didn't you leave after you won. Six hundred dollars is enough to hold us over for a while."

"I tried to leave, Sammy. But they wouldn't let me."

"They?" Sam raised an eyebrow as he opened a green and white tube of antibiotic cream to apply to Dean's cheek.

"Yeah, they. I was all set to leave when these three yokels blocked my way and one of them challenged me to a round. I declined and tried to move past them, but they kept blocking my way."

"So you agreed to play?"

"Yeah, I wasn't in the mood for a bar fight so I agreed to play one round for a hundred dollar bet. The guy, Russell, was too confident and made a couple of slip ups."

"Let me guess, you won and the guy was a bit of a sore loser," said Sam as he gently prodded a cut over Dean's right eye. It was somewhat jagged and Sam was curious at to what had done it. "This cut's not deep enough to require stitches. A couple of butterfly bandages should do the trick. It might leave a scar though."

"Well, at least chicks dig scars."

Pressing a small white bandage over Dean's eye, Sam gave a shake of his head. "Dean, you still need to tell me how you got hurt."

"The guy I beat wanted a rematch, but I said no and before the three idiots could move, I headed over to the bar settle my tab. I glanced back at the pool table and noticed they were gone, but didn't think too much about it and left the bar. I guess I should have paid more attention to my surroundings because next thing I know I'm being grabbed from behind and pulled into the alley next to bar. Someone slammed me into the wall face first. That's how my cheek got all scraped up. Turns out it was Russell."

"What the hell? One guy did all of this?" From the way Dean was so banged up everywhere, but his hands, it looked like he hadn't tried to fight back.

"It's kinda hard to fight back when two guys are holding your arms behind you," said Dean, reading the question written on Sam's face.

'Son of a ..." Sam began to swear softly to himself, his anger steadily rising.

"Believe me, Sam, if Russell's two goons weren't with him, I could have wiped the floor with him." Dean gave another yawn. "Instead Russell beats me up and he steals my wallet with all my money. You should have heard him laughing."

Sam had to fight hard to keep his anger in check. "Okay, Dean, I'm all done. I gonna get you glass of water. There's still some painkillers left over from when I broke my wrist. You should take a couple."

"Only a couple?"

Sam gave a small chuckle. Dean's injuries aside, he knew his brothers was okay if he could crack a joke.

**SNSNSN**

The next night, after Dean was asleep, Sam began to put his plan into motion. He quickly changed out of his t-shirt and and jeans and into his black suit. He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror making sure his tie was on straight. He wanted to look the part of a proper G-man. Some Christmas this turned out to be, he mused. Sam was hoping that he and Dean could have gone out for a nice Christmas Eve dinner. Instead they had take out from Wendy's because Dean was still too sore to really be up for anything else.

Once he was ready, Sam quietly slipped out of the room. Thanks to the painkillers, he knew his brother would sleep through the night.

**SNSNSN**

Walking into the tavern, Sam headed straight for the bar and quickly flashed his fake FBI badge.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" asked the bartender.

"I'm looking for a man. His name's Russell," said Sam. "I need to ask him a few questions and I heard he likes to play pool pool here."

The bartender gave a snort. Good old Russell, always getting himself into trouble. "If you mean Russell Smith, he's over at table three in the back. The one in the gray shirt."

Sam's gaze followed to where the bartender pointed. He took a long hard look at the guy. Russell stood about five foot ten and had the beginnings of a beer belly. His thinning brown hair had way too much gel in it and was styled in a way that was meant to cover the bald spot on the crown of his head, but you could still see it. He was dressed in black jeans and a long sleeved, gray, three button shirt. One look at the bastard and Sam knew why he had two guys hold his brother's arms. There was no way this man could have beaten up Dean on his own.

Making a beeline for Russell, Sam quickly moved through the bar, deftly sidestepping a waitress carrying a drink laden tray. He grabbed Russell's right arm just as he was making a shot causing him to miss. "Russell Smith?"

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Once again Sam flashed his badge. "Agent Tyler. We need to talk."

Russell's two cronies moved slightly closer as if to protect their friend.

"Excuse me, I need a moment of your time Russell," said Sam. "Let's go step outside."

"In case you didn't notice, I'm rather busy right now, so your gonna have to wait." Russell turned his attention back to the pool table.

"I'm sorry, but your game's over." Grabbing the pool cue from Russell's hand, Sam slammed it down on the table and proceeded to escort the man to the exit.

Russell's two friends moved to follow which did not go unnoticed by Sam.

"Hey, dumb and dumber, unless you want to be arrested for obstructing justice, I suggest you stay here," growled Sam.

Russell's two friends stopped in their tracks as they had no desire to be arrested.

**SNSNSN**

Once out in the fresh air, Sam grabbed on to Russell's arm and pulled him into the dark alley next to the bar. Before the shocked and slightly scared man could say anything, Sam was pulling out his handcuffs. Once they were safely out of view from the parking lot, Sam roughly shoved Russell against the brick wall. Pulling the man's arms over his head, Sam cuffed him to the metal bars covering a stockroom window.

"What, what's going?" sputtered a now very frightened Russell as he took full notice of Sam's height.

"We're going to have a little chat," hissed Sam.

Not liking the look in Sam's eyes, Russell began struggling in vain to free himself from the handcuffs. "Somehow, I don't think you want to talk."

"You're right talking is overrated these days." Sam's hands were balled into tight fists at his side.

"Wait a minute, you can't just cuff me like this," cried Russell. "Whatever happened to giving a guy a fighting chance?"

"Like the chance you gave my brother last night when your two friends held his arms as you beat the crap out of him."

"What???"

"My brother came home covered in bruises and bloodied up because you are a sore loser."

"I swear it wasn't me. I didn't touch Dean."

For a split second Sam had worried that he had the wrong guy, but Russell's slip of the tongue confirmed that he had the right guy. "Funny, I don't recall mentioning my brother's name."

"Uh oh." In that moment, Russell knew he was truly screwed. "Please, you don't want to do this. You're an FBI agent. One of the good guys. Please let me go. I swear I won't say a word."

Listening to Russell beg, Sam thought of his brother standing in this same ally, arms held behind him, as Russell proceeded to pound on his face. He knew Dean didn't beg. Dean was stronger than that. That's why it took three men to take him out. Glancing up Sam noticed a gaudy looking gold ring on Russell's hand and he knew that's what had cut up Dean's face. Thanks to Russell's ring, Dean would have a permanent reminder of what had happened to him. In that moment, the dam that was holding Sam's anger in check broke. A swift uppercut to Russell's chin had his head snapping back.

Looking out through dazed eyes, Russell feared that this man going kill him. He would have started screaming, but he knew no one would hear him over the noise from the bar.

"It's not so funny now is it," growled Sam.

"Please, I'm sorry. Please just let me go," pleaded Russell, tears threatening to spring forth from his eyes.

Sam really wanted to beat the crap out of this bastard, two punches for every one punch to Dean. But that would make Sam no better than Russell and beating up a man would couldn't fight back was something that Sam wouldn't do. He wouldn't stoop that low. Smelling a funky odor, Sam looked down to see that Russell's fear had caused him to pee himself. That will do, thought Sam.

Taking care avoid the wet spot on Russell's jeans, Sam reached in the man's pocket and pulled out the wallet there. Anger blazed full in Sam's eyes again when he recognized the leather wallet. It was one that his mother had given his father the first Christmas they were married. One Dean had taken to using after their dad's death as a way to feel closer to him. Opening it up, Sam removed all of Russell's credit cards and his license. After tossing them on the ground, he pulled out the cash.

"Hey, what are you doing?" cried Russell as he watch Sam pull out all of his money.

"Taking back that which doesn't belong to you." Sam counted out seven hundred dollars which was the amount of Dean's pool winnings and tossed the rest on the ground. Reaching up, he unlocked lock the handcuffs and pulled them off Russell's wrist.

Once he was free, Russell slid to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him up. For a few scary moments, he thought he was going to die. He actually thought this man was going to kill him. No sooner has relief started to spread then he was roughly hauled up off the ground and slammed against the wall.

"Listen, if I was you, Russell, I would think about giving up the game of pool because you never know whats going to happen." With one last shove into the wall, Sam drop the pathetic excuse for a human being on the ground and walked out of the ally without a glance backwards.

**SNSNSN**

Arriving back at the motel, Sam was relieved to see that his brother was still a sleep. Being as quiet as he could, Sam made his way into the bathroom. Feeling dirty from his encounter with Russell, Sam decided to take a long, hot shower.

Thirty minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom feeling much better and ready for a good night's sleep. He was just about to slip under the covers when he suddenly remembered something. Grabbing the jeans he was wearing earlier, Sam reached into the left pocket and pulled out Dean's wallet and money. He set them down on the nightstand next to his brother's bed.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," whispered Sam.

_**The End**_

Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Please let me know what you think.


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